


Timer

by galaxystiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxystiel/pseuds/galaxystiel
Summary: Dean doesn't have a soulmate, but if he did, he swears it would be Castiel Novak.





	Timer

With a heavy sigh, Dean lifts up his head and signals the bartender to pour him another.

He glances around while he’s waiting, and instantly regrets his decision. Couples, everywhere. Wrapped in each other’s arms, engrossed in their conversations, even making out in one particular case. Gross. Dean’s tempted to tell them to get a room, but even he can’t muster up the bitterness over someone else’s happiness. He’s just bitter he’ll never get his own.

As if to taunt him further, the bartender’s sleeve rides up as she pours the whiskey bottle, displaying her timer.

 _00:05:32_.

Less than six minutes to go until she meets her soulmate.

Nobody is really sure how the timers work. They’re etched into the skin from birth, small black digits on the wrist that count down until the moment that person meets their soulmate.

“Five minutes, huh?” Dean comments, draining the glass in one and gesturing for another. “You excited?”

The bartender colours a little bit, but shoots a nervous smile in Dean’s direction. “More like cautiously optimistic. I mean, we’re supposed to be made for each other, right? That can only be a good thing.”

“Sure,” Dean agrees easily, throwing back the second drink, shooting her a sideways smirk. “One more for the road, so I don’t take your attention away from your soulmate? I better get home.”

“Got your soulmate at home waiting for you?” The bartender smiles, gesturing to Dean’s arm, which is covered by the sleeves of his jacket.

A flicker of pain crosses Dean’s face, but it’s smoothed out almost immediately, to be replaced by his regular charming smile. “Something like that,” he says. “Good luck with your soulmate. I hope they’re everything you want them to be.”

He ducks out of the bar before she can reply, closing his eyes for a brief moment and trying to fight down the ache in his chest. After all this time it shouldn’t hurt anymore, but he can’t help it. He tries to fight it, but he can’t help but check his wrist as if the timer would change.

 _00:00:00_.

It’s been that way for as long as he can remember. His parents had assured him it had been that way since birth, that there’s nothing wrong with him, but Dean doesn’t feel that way. Seven billion people on earth, all with soulmates.

All except Dean. His fist clenches and his eyes sting with the familiar pain that there’s nobody on earth that is meant for him.

His shoulders tensed, Dean walks down the street, ignoring the bitter winter chill. He hadn’t planned on stopping for a few drinks, but a crappy day at work means he now had to walk home and that isn’t filling him with any joy.

He gets to the end of the street when his phone rings. With a sad smile at the caller ID, Dean is reminded that there is at least one other person on earth that has no soulmate either.

_Cas is calling…_

“Hey, buddy,” he greets softly. “What’s up? I thought you were sorting through your family albums tonight?”

“Dean,” Castiel’s voice is warm, affectionate, and it tugs at Dean’s heart. He’d met Castiel a year or so ago, and knows that if there was anyone he would ever choose to be his soulmate, it would be Cas. He likes all of Dean’s music and movies and puts up with his drinking. He’s always there when Dean needs him.

Sometimes Dean swears that Cas was made for him and then he remembers the stupid broken timers on their wrist that means they both weren’t made for anyone.

“Are you busy? Gabriel cancelled on me to hang out with Kali and I… I have whiskey.”

Dean barks out a bitter laugh. They’re even commiserating at the same time, for the same reason. Freakin’ soulmates, man. “That sounds perfect, Cas, but I don’t have my car. I started the party early today.”

“Lucky for you, I haven’t started yet. Where are you? I’ll come and get you.”

“Ah, you’re one in a million, Cas.” He tells Castiel the street name and hangs up. In no time at all, Castiel pulls up in his crappy gold Lincoln Continental, and Dean smirks. The car is godawful, but there’d been no talking Cas out of buying it. He loves the damn thing.

He slides into the car and buckles himself in. “So was it that your brother ditched you or _why_ he ditched you that’s driving you to drink?”

Castiel shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he pulls away. “It just reminded me that I’ll never have a reason to cancel plans with _him_. Is that bitter?” He sighs, suddenly looking very weary. “I dunno, it just really got to me today.”

Dean thinks of the bartender and wonders what she’s doing right now. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They’re silent until they get back to Castiel’s, and it’s a few whiskeys before their tongues loosen again. Dean realises belatedly that this is the first time they’ve gotten drunk together, and he raises his glass to new experiences.

“Will you tell me about it?” Castiel asks, quietly. “About when you found out? What your family said?”

It’s the first time he’s asked. They’ve both discussed their broken timers a handful of times, but they’ve never talked about this. About when they’d first realised they were different to every other person alive.

Dean’s silent for a long moment. “I always knew. My mom told me from the beginning that it was unusual, that I was special and different from Sammy. I don’t think I realised how different it was… how different _I_ was until I got to school and all of the other kids made fun of me.” He didn’t say how he’d kept his tears in all day, pretended to his mom and Sammy that everything was fine. How he’d cried himself to sleep every night for the first six months of school because nobody wanted to be friends with a freak without a soulmate.

Castiel’s hand on his arm is warm, an unconditional gesture of friendship and affection. Dean is torn between shrugging it off and covering it with his own. In the end, he does neither and just leaves it there, giving a shaky nod.

“I didn’t know at all. My mom… she was ashamed. She covered my wrists, never mentioned the word soulmate in front of me. The first time I heard it was at school and nobody could understand how I’d never heard of soulmates. My teacher made me roll up my sleeve for the demonstration and gave this almost horrified gasp. I was so humiliated.” Castiel’s cheeks burned. “I think I was almost eight, and there was this big thing that I didn’t know about.”

Dean gritted his teeth and silently wished every kind of pain on Mrs. Novak. As far as he knew, Castiel had nothing to do with her anymore, but to be ashamed of her own son because he didn’t have a soulmate? Dean couldn’t imagine something like that. He pulled Castiel into a hug, burying his face in his neck.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Cas,” he whispers, pulling back to meet Castiel’s eyes. “If you ask me, someone out there is missing out on someone real special.”

Castiel’s gaze drops to his mouth, and Dean swallows, realising where this is going. He leans in to meet the kiss halfway, brushing their lips together lightly. Once, twice, feather-light brushes that quickly turn hungry. He seals his mouth over Castiel’s, winding his fingers into his hair and guiding him back. He feels Castiel’s hand slide around his neck, crushing their mouths closer together as he nips at Dean’s lower lips.

The jolt of pain brings clarity and he pulls back, eyes wide. “Cas…”

“I… I can’t say I’m sorry,” Castiel shakes his head, averting his eyes. “Because I’m not. I’ve felt like this from the moment we met. We might not be soulmates, Dean, but there’s nobody else out there that I could love more than I love you.”

“Cas,” Dean repeats, taking his hand. “I don’t regret it. I just think this is something we need to do sober. I want this, but I want it to be because we feel like this about each other. Not because there’s nobody else. You know?”

Castiel wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smoothing down his hair and giving a jerky nod. “I understand,” he rasps out, clearing his throat. “I do understand. We can… we can see where things go when we’re both sober.”

Dean desperately wants to pull him in for a kiss again, hands itching to feel the soft, dark locks of Castiel’s hair between his fingers, so he stands up abruptly to quell the urge. Glancing wildly around the room, his eyes fall on the picture albums, two thick tomes laid out on the table.

“Let’s sort out your albums. Gabriel bailed, right? I can help. Just tell me what to do.”

Castiel nods, pouring them both another drink and grabbing a thick envelope of pictures. “Gabriel found these among my dad’s old things. He said it was better I kept them in case he lost them. Just slide them in the right places, they should all have dates written on the back.”

Dean agrees and they work in silence except for the turning of pages and an occasional question from Dean. The pictures show more of Castiel’s childhood than Dean had expected. It’s like he can see the change from a happy, excited child to one that just had his world ended when he turned eight. Even when he’s smiling, there’s a sadness in his eyes that Dean recognises from his own family pictures.

“What’s this one?”

Castiel hums distractedly, before leaning over for a look. “That’s my tenth birthday. Gabriel took me to the carnival. We had lot of cotton candy and then went on the big rollercoaster and I threw up everywhere. My mom was so mad, but we had so much fun.” He smiles, wistfully.

Dean smiles and slides the pictures into the album. He loves hearing more about Castiel’s life. The tedious task quickly turns to fun as Castiel occasionally tells a story of a photograph, and the heated atmosphere between them slowly fizzles out.

“Hey, what’s this one?” Dean frowns at a picture. “You’re just a baby, but you look… sick? There are tubes everywhere?”

Holding his hand out, Castiel takes the photograph and squints at it for a long moment. “Huh. I had no idea there was even a picture of this. I was a few months premature, I was hooked up to machines for like… maybe two months? I was in and out of the hospital a dozen times before I was six months old.”

He passes the picture back and Dean slides it into the front of the album, feeling a little out of sorts. Sammy had been a little premature but he’d had no idea it could be so dangerous. Or that a baby could be so small.

His hand stills on the next photograph and his mind goes blank. Wait. Was it possible? He pulls out the previous photograph and flips it, swallowing as he looks for a caption.

_Lawrence Memorial Hospital, 01/24/79._

Dean drops the photograph. “Cas,” he chokes out, tears swimming in his eyes. “Cas, fuck… look.” He doesn’t know how to react, how to feel with the wave after wave of relief and happiness and regret washing over him.

Castiel reaches for the dropped photograph and reads the caption with a frown. It doesn’t seem to have registered, although he seems to recognise the date.

“Dean, I don’t…”

“I was born in Lawrence Memorial, on January 24th, Cas. We were both in that hospital on the day I was born. We were probably in the same freaking room. This is why our timers have never worked, Cas, because we met before we could even read them.”

He can see when the realisation dawns on Castiel’s face, although it’s marred by wariness, the tentative hope shines brightly beneath the surface. “We don’t know that…”

“Yes, we do,” Dean tells him, his voice cracking. “Yeah, we do, Cas. I know I’ve always felt like you were mine, but I never had the slightest hope. We’ll find out for sure if you like, but I know. How I feel about you is all the proof I need.”

He barely finishes his sentence before he gets a lap full of Castiel. The table tips over behind them with a crash, but neither of them notice. They’re too busy clinging to each other, pressing kiss after kiss amid tears of joy.

“Soulmate,” Castiel whispers, against his lips.

“Soulmate,” he whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> [MY TUMBLR](http://blueeyedangel.co.vu)   
> 


End file.
